


The Falling

by spotofpurple



Series: Dagger and his Rose [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Boss Louis, Brutality, Crimes & Criminals, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Organized Crime, Orphanage, Orphans, Sugar Baby Harry, Sugar Daddy Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:39:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4042573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spotofpurple/pseuds/spotofpurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Louis was a crime boss, he was an orphan. Harry was still the love of his life. Life hurt, but they found each other. Now,  they just needed to save each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Falling

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the second part of the Dagger and his Rose. It is basically the back-story of them growing up.   
> Comments are highly appreciated, I would love to know what you think and what you like/don't like, what would you like to see as part of the story etc... 
> 
> Love,   
> spotofpurple

_I knew it when I met you, I’m not gonna let you runaway  
I knew it when I held you, I wasn’t lettin’ go_

(The Killers - “Runaways”) 

When Louis was a few days old, his mother left him at St. Patrick’s. He learned about feeling unwanted, unloved and inadequate before he learned anything else. However, he has never been the type to be suffer over that. Not since he passed his early teenage years, that is. Even during them though, Louis Tomlinson refused to look for his parents, track his last name or follow any loose trails. How he saw it, if someone didn’t want him, why would he allow himself to be weak enough to show he cares?   
He does care though. Even after 32 years of abandoned life have gone past him, it still bugs him sometimes. What was wrong with him? Was it even his fault? Whose fault was it then? What would his life be if he wasn’t a child left behind, if he belonged to people, a family, a home? But he decided as a kid that he will treasure things that he wins for himself in life, not the hardships that made it difficult.

  
So there he was, living in the orphanage for 10 entire years by the time Harry showed up. Louis was the king of the playground, menace of classes, unruly mess of too loud and too much attitude. He didn’t have parents, didn’t even want them, so a slap to the face here or there from the people running the orphanage didn’t bother him at all. Who were they to boss him around? There were no rules for Louis. No boundaries.

  
There was a teacher who told him, when he was about 9 that he will never amount to anything. And well, there are only a few other traits of Louis’ character that are as stable as his determination to prove all the assholes of the world wrong. Skinned knees and black eyes, street fights and pick-pocketing the tourists around Trafalgar Square, he proved everyone right by trying to do the opposite. There were other boys coming and going, some of them staying and getting trapped in all the same things. But he wouldn’t say that he had true friends then, it just wasn’t the sort of life that allowed for that, too focused on survival as it was.

  
Harry was a completely different story though. His parents died when he was 8 and since he didn’t have anyone else in the world, he ended up at St. Patrick’s. He was too sensitive for the harsh nature of it, or he seemed as such when he came. The other boys teased and prodded at him as boys usually do, but Harry didn’t really offer any satisfactory reactions. He kept his tears unseen and bruises hidden and maybe he could have survived for a while completely alone. But Louis wouldn’t have it. He thought it was just curiosity back then (maybe it was), but he didn’t want to leave Harry alone. The loudest in teasing and pulling his proverbial pigtails until the smaller boy just snapped and broke down into sobs right in front of him, Louis just couldn’t let this one slip away without any reaction. Now, Louis was a rough kid, but he was not cruel and the sight of those big green eyes staring at him like he is the cause of all the pain in the world broke him a bit. Nearly made him cry. Maybe it was a simple, predictable meeting between two developing characters that was bound to end in co-dependence. Or maybe it was just magic of whatever life does to you, but seeing Harry cry and sniffle his way away from Louis thought the boy how to extend a hand of apology and work on getting Harry to see that he doesn’t mean any actual harm.

  
After, Harry was as clingy as was possible, all hugs and cuddles and kisses on both of Louis’ cheeks when they were forced to separate and go sleep in rooms of their age groups. Louis found out alarmingly fast that he didn’t mind, he even vaguely remembers thinking that, now that Harry came out of his shell a bit, another boy might show up and take his friend away from him. Louis was not a fan of sharing. So he dedicated all of his time to build these sand castles of memories, unaware that he was learning to love the love of his life.

  
They were inseparable, the troublemaker and the exemplary angel of a child, refusing to step away from each other even when elders would advise them so. Louis got lectured on not going to school and wasting his life away, as always, but he figured that he wasn’t destined for the academic lifestyle, so why bother? Running around London and stealing his way through days, avoiding the police and the gangs at the same time, sneaking into pubs and getting drunk for the first time in his life, Louis was too busy being a reckless mess to serve as anything else except dirt on Harry’s record in the eyes of the people.

  
Louis saw it as a challenge, a never-ending battle, to have Harry by his side and laughing at his jokes, keep him happy and satisfied and never crying again. Stealing Jack Kerouac from the library in sunny afternoons and hiding in the attic of the orphanage, Louis would lure Harry in with him and read aloud, poetry and angry, rebellious verses that somehow made sense, resonated deep within him. Harry would stare at him like he wrote the words himself, open-mouthed and completely amazed. Maybe that was the thing that kept Louis trying, the fact that he gave his best to fail at everything people told him he will fail at and then this boy comes and breaks him down, looks at him like there is a better chance of hell freezing over than him being disappointed in Louis. It was like he had someone to belong to finally and the taste of the happiness on his tongue made him want to try and fly.

  
Harry had a vivid imagination his entire life and he loved reading, sobbingly admitted to Louis on his first birthday in the orphanage that he misses his mother reading aloud, all adventure and fantasy novels, with magic and dragons and heroes. So Louis stole the new Harry Potter book for him, the shiniest edition he could get his hands on in Barnes and Noble. Snuggled in the quiet dust of the attic, he read it in whispers, Harry clinging to him in grabby hands and excited gasps, like Louis actually managed to get him a wand of his own. During later years, Louis would steal Harry’s favorite books and stack them up in their corner of the attic, but Harry took over the reading aloud. And the boy was still mesmerized with the tales of unlikely heroes, knew half of the Lord of the Rings by heart probably and was excited as a little child again when Louis would bring him something new. But poetry, that was Louis’ thing and he recited or read it to himself even when Harry wasn’t there, pretending the world is really listening to what he has to say.

  
Harry had perfect grades and a thirst for knowledge, so much that he would end up doing homework during theirtime spent together, brow furrowed and biting his lip in concentration. He was good at science, adored it really, retelling the lessons to Louis like thriller movies.

   
One of the first promises Louis swore up and down the world about was that he was going to get Harry a library of his own one day, one of those dark, dusty rooms with too many books and the smell of old paper in the air, with comfortable chairs and a fireplace. And he did, years later, in their house. He remembered then what Harry liked the most, bought him new, leather-bound editions that were spotless and legal and wonderful. But Harry still kept the shelf with the books Louis stole for him a decade ago, all damaged paperbacks opening at the exact parts he read the most.

 

Then there were the dirtier parts of being two boys in an orphanage. The fights and bruises, a scrap here or there, sobbing in the quiet of the night and screaming at the top of your lungs as silently as you possibly could. Louis held him through it all, threw himself under fists and punishing glares, always asking just for a chance to protect the boy. Harry was a silent form of tough, almost invisible under the layers of nice and kind. Not made for the too clean orphanage corridors. Not even for the entire world.

  
***

  
It was years later, when they were 16 and 18 that it became too obvious that there are no friends on Earth that felt the pull they did for each other. Louis was aware of it, inevitably, since he was about 15 and Harry became a focus of a specific kind of dreams he was a bit terrified of. He tried not to think about it too much, erase it from memory come morning, but Harry was always there. Not doing anything about it, Louis kept pretending he didn’t notice the way Harry stared at him, biting his lip and focusing on pleasing, obeying, being perfect wherever he could. Thinking about it later, Louis realized that he was subconsciously waiting for Harry to be ready for whatever it was he couldn’t define, this monster of emotion eating away at his chest. Louis himself never found out how to deal with it, how to comprehend that he wouldn’t touch Harry out of fear, but would desire to break bones if anyone else put their hands on him.

  
Louis didn’t do birthdays for the first 10 years of his life, mostly because he didn’t actually know when he was born. They found him on Christmas day though, the coldest Christmas in a few years, but that just made him not celebrate Christmas either. Harry was a child of celebrations though, so as soon as they became friends, he practically begged his first birthday celebration out from Louis, on the 24th of December.

  
“So you can celebrate Christmas tomorrow properly too Lou!”

  
Louis thought that will be the best birthday of his life, that first one. On his 17th though, he was proven very wrong. Harry was itchy and distant, detached somehow for days and it bothered Louis like nothing else. He tried talking, cuddling, pranking and actually pulling his hair, but nothing worked. Then, on the night of the 23rd, Harry woke him and dragged him upstairs to the attic.

  
“I didn’t forget about your birthday Lou.”-Harry whispered and Louis  remembers wanting to scream at him for even thinking Louis gives a fuck about a birthday when Harry is bothered by whatever he is bothered with. But the boy was 15, a trembling line of baby fat and messy curls and well… Louis took the wrapped little parcel and thanked him with a small smile, trying to look like his heart wasn’t beating a mile a minute in absolute horror of how much he adores this boy.

  
It was an old, well preserved copy of Peter Pan. Not stolen, obviously, so that would be perhaps the first thing Louis ever owned and didn’t steal. And it truly made him cry, silent and pretending it wasn’t even happening, while Harry snuggled into him to read it that very night, in the dim light of the attic dust. Peter Pan was Louis’ thing. Like a promise, a comfort, ever since he himself was a boy and had to read it for English. Before Harry. Peter Pan was his shinning beacon of hope, for a child that never had a childhood, it was a pay-off in terms of being allowed to never stop being a child then. Harry changed Peter for Louis too, as he did everything else. He brought it up one day in the attic, how his mother read it to him and he then left his window open because he wanted to be stolen away for adventures.

  
Peter Pan was convincing Wendy to try flying in the book, read out in Harry’s rapidly deepening voice and Louis was crying silently above, pretending it wasn’t happening and allowing himself a tiny, winner smile. He maybe didn’t have a lot and never would probably, but he was 17 and still a child and knew better than to ever try to grow up. And the best part of it, he had a Harry. Didn’t even have to steal him away.

  
Then, before he could blink, he was 18 and required to leave the orphanage and find a job. Harry was a desperate, lost mess, trying to keep it together and Louis was swearing on his life that he will not disappear, will wait for Harry to be able to leave too. Then they would go conquer the world. In their place in the attic, for the last time they were both there, his leather bag packed up with everything he had below his feet, Louis finally kissed the boy. It was the first time he ever kissed anyone and he was damn proud of that, no matter the teasing he endured from all the other boys about how never fucked anyone. They all knew, the sky and the sea knew by that point that Louis only had eyes for Harry and the kiss was happening finally only because Louis couldn’t put it in words that he is Harry’s forever. He needed to prove it to him, to promise and make it solid. Harry gripped onto his arms like a dying man, desperate and trembling. Later, they will have better kisses. More magical and perfectly executed than two fumbling boys in a dusty room. But they never had a kiss more loaded with promises, not even on their wedding day.

  
Dreams took a few years to come through though. And before them, before Louis was marrying Harry, there was a road of pain and doubt to go through.   
Simon was at the top of the ladder at the time Louis left the orphanage, a familiar name around London. He specialized in robberies and money laundry, always a step away from too dangerous, but close enough to collect. Louis was young, but he knew how it worked, quick and observant as he was during his years spent in street school. He came into it head-first, decisive and stubborn. At the beginning though, he had no dreams of being on the top. He just wanted enough money to live, provide for little whims he could only dream of in the orphanage, buy a place of his own and stay unnoticed. But Harry was not the type that would survive doing something that Louis schooled himself for. Since he figured out that Louis would not stop before getting him whatever he mentioned, Harry kept quiet about what he wanted in life, but Louis knew. Saw him with his books and documentaries and bloody scientific papers when Harry thought nobody was looking. He wanted an education, all proper Uni student and a safe job down the road. Maybe it was Harry’s way of dreaming up a future where he could provide for the both of them, Louis never got the chance to find out. He knew he needed a lot of money to pay for that fancy tuition Harry needed, so he climbed the ladder towards more money. That is how Simon first noticed him properly.

  
He was waiting in a car, one of the back-up ones, a beginner position, as bigger fish went hunting for whoever owed money to Simon. There was another man in the car with him, a 28 year-old idiot named Jake that talked his ear off about this hooker he discovered that gave the best blowjobs in entire England apparently. Louis was not paying any attention to him, too preoccupied staring at the door of the house  and doing his actual job. Besides, Harry and him were serious and properly dating for a few months already, since Louis left the orphanage, so hookers were definitely not of any interest to him.

  
Jake was not paying attention to the surroundings at all, so when a dark figure showed up in the window on Jake’s side and leaned in extending the hand with a gun, Jake didn’t even notice by the time he had a bullet in his head. But Louis did, peripheral vision only, but enough to fling himself from his seat and stumble outside before the bullet reached him. Louis never thought about what killing someone means before that. Never saw people getting shot just like that, never fired a gun at another person. But when he found himself outside the car, crunching down so the man couldn’t shoot directly at him, he didn’t think about it extensively. There was someone who wanted him dead. And Louis wanted to stay alive. Conflict of interests of sorts.

  
It probably only happened because the man was expecting a scared boy to panic. Or maybe he just wasn’t fast enough. Louis did it in one move, the jump and twist and shoot and then it was done. Afterwards, he remembered how he didn’t even turn around to watch the body hit the ground, just ran straight at the house to warn Simon and that is how he got the most successful crime boss of London to notice him specifically.

  
“Why are you here Louis? What do you want from me?”-Simon asked him while the others were getting rid of the bodies that same day. Louis looked at him with too much determination in his eyes, steely look he usually only saved for authority figures that were displeased with him.   
“I want an opportunity.”-he answered and that is pretty much how he got it.

  
Louis didn’t enjoy the crime. Killings specifically not. He loved having power and ability, adored the feeling of pulling the strings, finally, no matter how small. That is what got him hooked and after, it was just the matter of using both his brain and hands fast enough and he was set for a safe future.   
Harry didn’t like it, never, made it very obvious. He wanted Louis to do something else, not risk his neck each day even more than he did stealing stuff from people. But Louis was a realist and saw the world exactly as it was. It did terrify him at the beginning though, the thought that Harry is going to leave him because of it. But Harry didn’t tell him to leave, never. There was something to be grateful for, how Harry just accepted it after a while, kept taking care of Louis’ bruises like he always did and knew not to ask too much. Louis protected him, by secrecy and choices and never allowed ultimatums with it.

  
Looking back at it, Louis felt for a few of those first years that Simon is the closest to a father figure he will ever get in life. He wasn’t an evil man. Manipulative and resourceful, yes, but never cruel. Everyone who worked for him respected him and there was a wide-spread knowledge that Simon took care of his own, kept them fed and satisfied. Louis was lucky to end up in his part of the crime playground.

  
***

  
While Harry spent his last months in the orphanage, they had the first proper fight. It was a matter of possessiveness, on Harry’s side this time. He was doubting a lot, Louis knew it, but still had no means of proving that things will not change when he gets out. He was preparing a few surprises in the tiny apartment he was living in for the last  two years, making it better, homier, more Harry-like. But that meant that Harry couldn’t come and visit, not while there were construction workers knocking walls down to expand the bedroom into a bigger space, or while he was painting the walls a shade of creamy white. This was to be the first place in which Harry would live in, making it special was the exact amount of crazy dedicated Louis prided himself with.

  
But Harry not being able to come and visit and spend time with Louis also meant almost no sex, much less time being spent together and, lastly, a very doubtful Harry confronting Louis in fury.

  
“Did you finally decide to fuck some of the hookers Simon keeps throwing your way?!”- he was screaming at Louis and well… Louis never even looked at another human being in any sort of mild interest, but Harry was, for some reason, born less self-confident that he needed to be.

  
Simon did parade prostitutes in front of him, trying to figure out why the youngest and newest member of his inner circle didn’t chase anyone around. Louis didn’t tell him about Harry, kept it as hidden as he could with only a few visits and inconspicuous hanging out. That was partly because he didn’t know how much he could actually trust Simon and mostly because he didn’t really know how to begin explaining that he was gay. Part of being a realist, in the modern world, was also being aware of how backwards fucked up it was when it came to stuff like that.  

  
Harry was furious and moody, refusing to talk to Louis except to scream at him sometimes for a few weeks and it put Louis on edge. He knew he just needed to wait a bit until Harry turned 18 and could move in and see that there is no notion of cheating in Louis’ daily routine. Maybe even make it more obvious to Simon and whoever wanted to know that he was pretty much taken. But waiting was never Louis’ ability when it came to human relations, not even with Harry, so he finally snapped and screamed back a bit, saying that he was sick of explaining himself when he didn’t actually do anything.

  
The result: Harry stopped communicating all together, too offended at being screamed at and maybe scared a bit. Of life and relationships and promises, not of Louis, never Louis, that he took care of. Louis was holding up through his daily duties all fine until he got a phone call from one of the other boys from the orphanage, who knew Harry and Louis were together. The boy meant well, nothing too harsh, just to inform Louis that Harry went out with the other boys from the orphanage, which usually never happened and that he was getting pretty drunk in a local pub, so maybe Louis would   
“drag his ass down there and take care of his mess of a boyfriend”.

  
Louis nearly broke his neck getting there on time, equal amounts worried and pissed off. Harry never did reckless stuff, and even though getting out to get drunk with people you have practically grown up with doesn’t sound dangerous, you never know. Never. And with Harry, Louis would just prefer to know, always.   
When he got there, Harry was with a group of guys, leaning against the bar stool behind him and he seemed reasonably relaxed. Everyone around him seemed occupied in conversations or flirting and Louis seriously considered just pulling one of the boys to the side, giving him enough money for a taxi and leaving, certain that Harry is still too pissed off to want to see him and certain now that all was well.

  
But then. The other boys went to check out the jukebox machine in the corner of the pub and Louis realized that he is too tense to go and try to sort it all out with Harry now. He was still out of breath, tired and worried and didn’t want to hear the complaining about how he shouldn’t be there and Harry can manage all by himself. Trying to calm himself down, he went outside for a cigarette. In the big picture of life, he was outside for 5 minutes at most. He was outside for a reason, an attempt to clear his head before braving a drunk Harry. And still, as soon as he walked back in, his blood turned cold.

  
The boys were still beside the jukebox, but Harry wasn’t beside the bar anymore. Panicking, Louis ran towards the bartender and practically slammed his body into the wood, drawing immediate attention to himself.

  
“The guy that was sitting here a minute ago. Tall, lanky, curly hair. Where is he?!”-asked and maybe his tone was as unyielding as his general feelings toward the situation, because the bartender didn’t question him.

  
“A man bought him a drink half an hour ago. Left with him to the bathroom a few minutes ago.”-he said, biting his lip like he was expecting a lovers spat.   
But no. Louis was not angry or panicked like lovers are. He was furious like a wounded beast, done in a second, ready to maim and torture. He knew the feeling, the fierce protectiveness that bordered on crazy that he felt around Harry, but that night, something more snapped in him.

  
As soon as he opened the bathroom door, Louis knew he is going to kill tonight. And this time, he wouldn’t even feel bad for it.

  
Against the wall beside the sink, there was a man pushing his body against Harry’s, growling and humping away like an animal. Harry’s eyes were closed and his body lifelessly still, like a ragdoll that someone just hung up there. Louis was on the man before the door closed after him, ripping his shirt in the process of tugging him towards the other end of the spacious bathroom. He was about to start throwing punches, when Harry just slid down onto the floor, moaning something incoherent and trying to lift his hands up to defend himself against something invisible. His mouth opened in shock, Louis saw his knees hitting the floor and then he was sobbing, quietly but still too loud in the absolute silence of the bathroom. The man tried to shrug away from Louis, but the grip on his shoulder was too strong.

  
“What did you do to him?”-Louis snarled and he remembers the unfazed, evil smile he got in return, the way it made his blood clot in absolute horror.

  
“Pretty boy got a pretty special drink. Makes them all willing and easy, look at him.”

  
To the end of his days, Louis will never be able to understand how anyone could brag about drugging and raping people, what monster had to be trapped in human skin to allow something like that to escape anyone’s mouth. He punched the man a few times, using all of his strength and even through the pathetic attempts to defend himself, the man still didn’t stop smiling, too focused on Harry on the floor to snap out of it. Louis wanted to kill him so bad he could taste it.

  
Harry came to it a few moments after, moaning out Louis’ name and that made him stop hitting and turn around again. There were actual tears in his eyes, a lost look haunting them still. Louis was very close to losing it, completely, but the bathroom of a London pub was definitely not the place. He picked the scum up and pushed him in front of himself, keeping a resolute grip on the back of his neck with one hand. The man wasn’t very big or strong, so dragging him along with Harry, who Louis picked up to lean on his right side wasn’t too much of a challenge, especially considering the adrenaline pumping through Louis veins.

  
His car right in front of the pub, Louis pushed Harry in the back seat and the man in the front, locking him up before he could escape. It was almost comical, how amused he seemed, as if Louis was kidnapping him to give him a better opportunity to rape Harry. Maybe he himself was drugged out of his mind.

  
Harry whimpered and clawed at Louis shoulder while he drove away and Louis was very still and unresponsive, focused on just one thing.

  
Simon told him about a perfect place where he could take care of stuff if he ever needed to and the drive wasn’t very long. An abandoned construction site, no people in sight, darkness and the smell of wet soil. Louis got out of the car, dragged the man in front of the headlights, so he could have a perfect view of his face and kicked him in the legs so he would kneel. That was the point where the man snapped. There was fear in his eyes now, a silent understanding that no, this wasn’t some deranged game happening, that he fucked up, very much.

  
“What were you about to do with him?”-Louis asked him, taking the gun out finally.

  
The man shook his head and looked up, the smug and sick grin of a rapist gone. He was almost childlike, innocent even in the way he looked up at Louis and that only solidified the need Louis had to kill him on the spot.

  
“Nothing.”-he said, shaking his head again and looking back at the car, trying to see Harry over the headlights.

  
“Don’t look at him!”-Louis screamed at him and gripped his face to turn him back. There was a decision in his mind from the moment he walked into that bathroom to see Harry molested by the creep. And Louis now had the power to make decisions like these. It was something he despised doing, always made himself doubt about a hundred times, even if the other side usually had a gun pointed at him already. But now, he didn’t feel a thing but a deep, deep hatred.

  
The shot was silent, done like trained, perfectly executed. And while he was removing the body and phoning one of Simon’s men to cover it up properly, Louis didn’t feel anything but relief that he was taken care of.

  
Harry was still and sweating in the back seat, eyes clearer and aware, clearly aware. But he was not scared. Even if he couldn’t move properly yet, his thoughts ran away into mumbles on his lips, he cried in silence and gripped the back of Louis’ seat all the way home. Louis carried him in, cradled him as he would a child, held him close through the sobs and lulled him to drugged out sleep.

  
He woke up in the morning with a sniffling boy in his arms, eyes that were roaming over half-finished walls of their future place and murmured apologies, mixed in with sobs. Louis held him tighter, promised that it wasn’t Harry’s fault, could never be Harry’s fault.

  
“You killed him Louis. You killed him and that is because of me, if something happens to you now because I was stupid enough to get myself nearly raped…”   
“Don’t you dare talk about it like he has any right thinking it is somehow alright to take advantage of you! Of course I killed him. He drugged you, put his hand all over you, he tried to hurt you, of course I killed him, I would kill all of them, whoever tries to hurt you!”

  
“Lou… You can’t risk it all because of me, you can’t, you are risking enough either way, and now look. I just get you into trouble.”

  
Louis looked at him, deep and meaningful like he has been practicing for years and shrugged.

  
“I would risk the world for you. Screw risk, I would kill the world for you.”

  
Harry stared back at him and tried to wipe his eyes secretly, holding the tears in on the brims, face blotchy and hair pulled back in distress. Louis cupped his face and stroked until the last tears finally fell, then pressed himself close and inhaled him.

  
“Nobody touches you. Nobody makes you cry. You are mine.”

  
Harry calmed down in gradual little gasps and then proceeded to fall asleep on Louis again.

  
Later, he called Simon and explained himself and the body that popped up that night, a man with no name, a monster chased away. Simon asked him why and that is where Louis had to admit that he has a figurine in his chess set that is never to be gambled with.

  
“You never hide someone that important from me Louis, you hear me?! Never!”-the man shouted at Louis and of course, Harry was a liability. A pawn in the game of others. Something to be manipulated. Because if someone could stumble upon him and make Louis this mad and out of control, what would happen if he was a planned target?

  
Louis didn’t apologize for it though. He kept silent and when Simon was done screaming, he asked for a second thing from Simon, the second thing in life ever.

  
“Help me keep him safe.”

  
“Can you not get him away from yourself?”-Simon asked, a calm and pointless question as soon as it was said.

  
“I work for you, but live for him. You want me here, you keep him safe. Simple as that Simon, he is Mine.”

 


End file.
